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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220837">Aftermath</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey_Lynne/pseuds/Audrey_Lynne'>Audrey_Lynne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Betrayal, Bonding, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I ship all of these ducks with a good therapist, Non-Graphic Violence, Post Traumatic Growth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, post-episode, spoilers for Escape from the Impossibin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:15:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey_Lynne/pseuds/Audrey_Lynne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, Bentina Beakley was betrayed by someone she trusted without question.  She won't let it happen again.  She can't.</p><p>For all their differences, Donald and Beakley both want nothing more than to keep their family safe.  After the events of the Impossibin episode, Donald seeks her out to talk.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bentina Beakley &amp; Donald Duck, Bentina Beakley &amp; Duckworth &amp; Scrooge McDuck, Donald Duck &amp; Scrooge McDuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>123</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have so many feelings about that episode.  So, so many.  I was actually working on an entirely different, post "Let's Get Dangerous" fic, but this one turned the corner like Launchpad and made me get it out.</p><p>To avoid confusion, this does not take place in the primary universe I set my other DuckTales fics in.  I gave Webby's mom a different name in order to make that clearer, but this episode really had me considering a fandom theory I hadn't taken that seriously before and I had to explore it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>In the first several weeks after his Board of Directors had forced Scrooge McDuck to give up his search for Della, he’d locked himself away in his rooms, refusing to speak to anyone.  Not that there were many people who were trying to talk to him.  Duckworth, of course, remained as steadfast and loyal as ever, and in the months since Bentina Beakley’s cover had been blown, she’d settled into the mansion and become his mostly full-time personal assistant.  He knew she still did some consulting work for S.H.U.S.H. – and had tried to get him to join her on a couple of occasions – but Scrooge was content to let the people around him live their lives without his interference.  If only they’d do the same for him…</p><p>Duckworth had finally insisted that Scrooge at <em>least</em> come down for dinner regularly, which eventually led to lingering for tea after dinner.  It wasn’t that terrible, and it had been part of their routine…before.  Things would never be the same, but perhaps Scrooge could keep this small tradition from the life he’d once had.  Adventure and family had brought him nothing but trouble, but what harm would a cup of tea and the company of his staff hurt?</p><p>Duckworth was ladling the soup into bowls when Scrooge arrived in the dining room.  “Good evening, sir.  You’re early.”  The hint of a smile on his face suggested he had no complaints about that.</p><p>“Finished with paperwork sooner than I’d expected.”  Scrooge glanced around.  “Where’s Beakley?”</p><p>“Family emergency.  Belinda called; it seemed urgent.”  Duckworth seemed concerned, but he said nothing more about his personal feelings on the matter.</p><p>“Hmm.”  Scrooge frowned; Beakley’s daughter had followed in her mother’s footsteps and become an agent herself.  Beakley hadn’t said anything about it to him.  Maybe she’d finally given up on trying to involve him in her agency business…unless she’d considered it too dangerous a situation to bring anyone else into, which was the more worrisome option.  She could handle herself, though; even if her identity had been exposed, she was more than capable in a fight.  Scrooge was sure he’d get the story when she got home.</p><p>After dinner, they shared a cup of tea, as usual.  Duckworth had made his standard inquiries  about the state of Scrooge’s business affairs, and they’d fallen into a companionable silence when the gate buzzer rang.  Duckworth rose to answer it, activating the intercom.  “McDuck residence.”</p><p>Beakley’s voice sounded pained.  “Have you seen the latest Duckenhams catalogue?”</p><p>Scrooge froze at the question, exchanging a significant look with Duckworth, and moved to the security system panel in the foyer.</p><p>“Yes, it arrived yesterday,” Duckworth confirmed, hitting the button to buzz her in without another word.  He moved to the door to await her.</p><p>Scrooge frowned, typing in the password that would activate the mansion security system’s advanced mode.  They’d developed the code long ago, but it had never been used before now.  Something had gone wrong, and there was a chance Beakley had been followed. </p><p>Beakley was cradling something inside her jacket as she stumbled through the door.  She passed the bundle to Duckworth, who blinked in surprise at the tiny duckling who was now in his arms.  She wore a pink dress and bow, and Scrooge assumed this must be her granddaughter, the one whose birth she had been so over the moon about lately.  He’d mostly tried to avoid the subject of the new arrival; it reminded him too much of other little ducklings who should have been underfoot but weren’t.</p><p>Scrooge moved to help Beakley to the couch, amazed she was still on her feet.  It must have been pure determination; she looked terrible, and he was alarmed by the size of the blood stains on her sweater.  “What happened?”</p><p>“Ambush,” she hissed, her arm moving to protect her ribs as she sat.  There was a haunted look in her eyes Scrooge had never seen there before and that alone would have worried him if she hadn’t been injured. </p><p>Duckworth had hurried out of the room after seeing the extent of Beakley’s injuries, and he returned with a first aid kit, the sleeping duckling still tucked safely in one arm.  “How bad is it?  And none of your stoic nonsense.”</p><p>Beakley winced.  “I’ll survive.  The knife wounds are superficial.”  There was a crack in one lens of her glasses, and a number of bruises already blooming across her face. </p><p>Duckworth sat down on the couch, settling the baby between himself and Beakley.  “I’d like to see these ‘superficial’ wounds for myself, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“You’re such a pain in the ass,” she grumbled, but it lacked her usual enthusiasm for their arguments.  She was resigned, and took off her sweater, rolling up her sleeves.  The wounds were clearly defensive, but Scrooge frowned at them anyway.  Beakley took no prisoners in a fight, but the placement of the injuries suggested she’d been throwing her arms up to protect herself rather than cut while she advanced on her opponent.  Though, as Scrooge glanced at the duckling, it occurred to him that she might not have only been defending herself.</p><p>As Duckworth got to work cleaning and dressing the cuts, Scrooge knew he needed answers.  Not only was he concerned about the potential security threat, Beakley was his friend.  This wasn’t the usual mission gone wrong.  When she’d barely escaped with her life after her cover was blown, she’d seemed more irritated about it than anything else.  He didn’t always read emotions as well as he could have, but this wasn’t anger.  She was shaken…and terribly sad.  “Duckworth said Belinda called before you ran out of here.  Was she attacked?”</p><p>“It was a trap,” she murmured, shaking her head.</p><p>Scrooge had gathered that, and impatience rose in him, but he bit it back down.  If something had happened to her daughter – which seemed increasingly likely – he couldn’t push her too hard.  “Yes…you mentioned an ambush.  She called you for backup?”</p><p>It took several excruciatingly long moments for Beakley to answer the question.  “She <em>was</em> the ambush.”  Her voice cracked as tears filled her eyes.  “She’s working for F.O.W.L.”</p><p>Of all the terrible scenarios Scrooge had begun to imagine, Beakley’s daughter being a double agent had not been one of them.  He gasped.  The pattern of her injuries suddenly made far more sense.  She’d likely been caught off-guard, attacked by the very person she’d rushed to help.  Her own <em>child</em>.  Not only that, but who would have known her fighting style better?  “Oh, Bentina.”</p><p>“I managed to fend her off, until I tried to get to the baby.”  Beakley was beginning to tremble, and Scrooge suspected the trauma of her experience was beginning to set in.  He moved to take a blanket from the nearby chair and draped it over her shoulders as she scooped her granddaughter up in the arm Duckworth had finished bandaging.  “She didn’t care if she hurt Webby by accident.  I couldn’t let her…I had to get her out of there.”  She wiped away a stray tear, holding the little girl closer.  “She never wanted to be a mother.  F.O.W.L.’s been building a child soldier program…”  The horror in her tone was echoed in her expression. </p><p>“Oh, my.”  It was the first thing Duckworth had said since he’d started tending to Beakley’s wounds, but Scrooge saw him flinch.  He glanced over the baby.  “I take it she’s uninjured?”  It was a fair assumption; there was no way Beakley would have allowed herself to be patched up if her granddaughter had been hurt.</p><p>Beakley nodded, swallowing hard.  “I got Webby away, but…I don’t think this is the end of it.  She’s never let anything go so easily.”</p><p>Scrooge didn’t know what to say.  There were no words of sympathy that fit this situation.  F.O.W.L. agents were known for ending a fight only when one party was incapacitated or dead.  Beakley was probably lucky to be alive.  The fact that she’d had to fight her own flesh and blood at all was difficult enough, but then given the plans that had apparently been in place for the little girl…  Rather than try to offer inadequate comfort, Scrooge shifted to something he was good at – action.  “We’ll be ready then.  If it’s now or months from now, she’ll be safe here.” </p><p>“Thank you.”  Beakley squeezed his hand, her tears still falling silently. </p><p>Scrooge returned the gesture, forcing a shaky smile for her benefit.  He glanced at Duckworth.  “There’s a crib in the attic.”  It had been purchased with his great nephews in mind, but there was no use wasting emotion on that now.  That was another life.  Family really was nothing but trouble, it seemed, and not for just him.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>F.O.W.L.’s strike on the Missing Mysteries had provided a distraction, and a chance for them to rally.  Donald had seen the boost of confidence the children in particular had felt as the family banded together, and he was quietly relieved.  <em>That</em> was what they needed, not constant suspicion of one another.  Speaking of which…he still needed to talk to Beakley.</p><p>Donald hadn’t been thrilled about her training plan initially, but he’d agreed to go along with it when she’d stated her case – that a threat could come from any angle, and the children had to be prepared for anything.  It had all seemed harmless enough, until things had gotten way too serious.  Beakley had nearly given in, but then she’d suddenly doubled down.  It took her nearly falling off a roof to get her to see reason.  Donald’s angry words for her had died in his throat as he’d seen the cracks in her armor, and he wondered why he hadn’t seen it sooner.  He’d seen that look in his fellow veterans’ eyes a time or two, and he’d seen it in his sister’s when something unexpectedly reminded her of her years on the moon.  As much as he hated to admit it, he’d seen it in the mirror.  That was a trauma reaction.  She’d gone too far, but it hadn’t been purely out of blind arrogance or stubborn pride.  And that required a different approach.  Not only was he worried about her, but if they didn’t sort through it now, it was likely to come up again – and probably at the worst possible time. </p><p>Donald found her in the kitchen, staring into her cup of tea as if it might suddenly start providing answers.  “Mrs. B?  Can we talk?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, what?” </p><p>Donald wasn’t sure if she’d been distracted or if she hadn’t understood him, but he suspected the former.  He sat down across from her, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  “Can we talk?”</p><p>Beakley sighed.  “I’m sorry about earlier.  You were right.  I pushed them too hard.”  Her tone was flat, and though he could tell the apology was genuine, her mind seemed to be miles away.</p><p>“Yeah,” Donald agreed.  He knew she’d expected him to catch Huey and Dewey when she tossed them aside; she’d asked him beforehand to monitor the situation in case it escalated beyond what the children could handle.  But then she’d been the one to escalate it, and he needed to understand <em>why</em>.  If he put her on the defensive, though, she might shut down.  He knew she’d seen a lot of things in her time as a spy, but that didn’t answer all his questions.  “I know you were trying to protect them.  I’m not mad.”  At least not anymore.  “But…why family fighting family?”</p><p>She sighed again, shakier this time, and though she closed her eyes, Donald could see the tears leaking around her eyelids. “Because that’s what happens sometimes, and if you hesitate…”</p><p>Yikes.  This sounded more serious than Donald had initially been prepared to deal with.  He’d been hoping, frankly, that she had some theory in her head about F.O.W.L. disguising themselves as family members, just as they’d been posing as Scrooge’s formerly trusted board members.  He wasn’t one to bring things up and drop them, though, particularly not when the stakes were so high.  “Did you want to talk?”</p><p>“Not really,” she said, her tone tired and sad, “but I will.  Just…not here.”  She glanced around.  “Walls have ears and so do children.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>It had shattered Beakley’s heart to see the fear in Webby’s posture as she stood, proud and defiant on that roof, but terrified.  Of her own grandmother.  But then she’d remembered the murder in her daughter’s eyes and pressed forward.  Hesitation might mean death in a real fight and losing Webby would break her.</p><p>Now she was on the roof again, with Donald, but this time the children were tucked safely into bed.  She’d been up here before, watching the stars to clear her mind, though she knew Donald tended to come out on this ledge far more often than she did.  He’d suggested it and she found it as good a place to talk as anywhere else they’d be safe from eavesdroppers.  She didn’t want to have this conversation, but if they were going to face F.O.W.L. as a family, he did need to know.  Best to just come out with it.  “Webby’s mother is a F.O.W.L. agent.  At least…she was.  I lost track of her a few years ago; I’m not sure if she’s still alive.”  That stung in its own way; despite the betrayal, Belinda was still her child. </p><p>“Oh.”  Donald’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard.  “Does she know?”</p><p>Beakley shook her head.  “No.  It would break her heart.  If I can keep her from knowing, I will.”  Secrets had never led to anything good in this family, but Webby’s view of the world was so precious and she didn’t want anything to destroy that.  “Before you say anything…I don’t <em>like</em> lying to her.  Even if it’s a lie of omission.  I told her that F.O.W.L. took her mother from us, and that’s true.  I raised that girl; I know there’s good inside her.  I don’t know how they corrupted it and turned her to them, but…”  She blinked back tears, sighing, and looked back to Donald.  As much as the sympathy in his expression felt like a balm to her wounded heart, she hated feeling so weak.  So…helpless.  “How can I tell her she was only born because her mother wanted to raise a child soldier?”  And…in the end, had she been forced to create a child soldier of a different kind?</p><p>Donald frowned, his hand going to her shoulder.  “That’s…that’s rough.”</p><p>Beakley couldn’t help but smile at his honesty.  She actually preferred it to meaningless platitudes about how everything happened for a reason or some other nonsense.  “It is, actually.”  She gazed up at the sky, remembering the nights she’d spent teaching Webby the names of constellations.  It helped ground her.  “It wasn’t my intention to traumatize the boys.  Or Webby.  But…if someone they did trust attacked them and they don’t fight back…”</p><p>“What, like ‘Uncle’ Donald?” he asked wryly, making the quotes with his fingers.</p><p>She laughed, amused by his sarcasm.  She’d made the mistake of underestimating him before, but he’d proven during the Shadow War how capable he was, even despite swearing off adventuring.  He was just supremely unlucky, but that wasn’t his fault.  Perhaps the same forces that gave his cousin endless luck plagued him in the opposite way.  Once Beakley had begun to pay more attention to Donald and attempt to understand what he was saying, she’d seen just how many layers there were to him.  “For the record, you were never an actual suspect.  The point was to get them to think about the idea that sometimes someone you trust implicitly can turn on you.  I couldn’t think of anyone the children would trust more.”</p><p>“Aw, Mrs. B.”  A blush rose to his cheeks. </p><p>“It’s only the truth.”  Yes…the truth, something she wished she had a better relationship with when it came to Webby.  She supposed she’d be forced to face it someday, but she wanted to preserve that sweet innocence awhile longer.  Even today, the joy with which she’d embraced what she saw as a game had warmed Beakley’s heart.  But would all her training be enough, when it came down to someone who <em>wouldn’t</em> hesitate to hurt her?  “My own daughter lured me into a trap and tried to kill me, and if I hadn’t managed to trip her and get away, she might well have.”  It didn’t hurt any less, saying it out loud.  “It took me years to come to terms with that.”  She sighed, looking down at her hands.  “Tonight’s events have suggested that I might not have accepted it as well as I thought I had.”</p><p>Donald nodded, giving her a sad smile.  “I get that.  Well…the not getting over it part.”</p><p>“We all have our own crosses to bear.”  She wasn’t going to rip any scabs off his issues, but she suspected she knew what he was referring to.  “I know you won’t betray your family.  But if someone they <em>did</em> trust attacked the boys, would they be able to fight back in time?”  Would Webby be able to bring herself to fight her own mother if it came down to that?</p><p>“I…”  Donald frowned, finally sighing as he shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I want to think so, but…”</p><p>“I don’t know either,” she admitted.  “We’ll find a better way.  We’ll <em>get</em> them ready.  And they do have us.”</p><p>“But what if we’re not enough?” Donald asked.</p><p>“That’s what I worry about every day.”  Beakley wrapped her arms around herself, sighing.  “But…somehow, we’ll have to be.”</p><p>Donald nodded, offering his hand to her.  “Together.”</p><p>“Together,” she agreed, clasping his hand in hers.  She wasn’t sure either of them had found answers, or even a plan.  Still, she felt better.  She turned at the sound of the loft window opening behind them, smiling as she saw Scrooge climbing out onto the roof.  “Hello.”</p><p>Scrooge blinked.  “What in blazes are you two doing out here?”</p><p>Donald patted the empty space beside him, nodding up at the sky.  “Looking at the stars.”</p><p>Scrooge smiled at them, sitting down.  If he suspected anything else, he gave no indication.  He gazed up at the sky for a moment, then pointed.  “Look, there’s Arcturus.  Wasn’t that one of the first ones I taught you about?”</p><p>“No, that was Cassiopeia,” Donald said, only stumbling over the pronunciation slightly.  He made a face.  “Who let Zeus name half the stars, anyway?”</p><p>“No one let him; he did it because he’s a great egotistical bastard who can kiss my tail feathers,” Scrooge grumbled.</p><p>As they continued to banter – and it actually stayed playful – Beakley could feel herself begin to relax.  She was still worried, of course, and she would be until F.O.W.L. had been toppled, once and for all.  But her confidence was growing.  They had something F.O.W.L. would never have – a true sense of family.  It had gotten them this far; it could be enough.</p><p>It <em>would</em> be enough.</p><p> </p>
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